Hideout
by Missekatten
Summary: Remus has to spend his first full moon alone since Hogwarts, and it's not a good night. There will, however, be snuggles, confessions and starry skies for everyone.
1. Chapter 1

The message was not at all what Remus had hoped it would be. He had thought that it might be a joke, or some reassurance perhaps. Something to make him smile, or at least to put him a little bit at ease. Now, however, his throat closed up as he read the few scrawled down words over again.

_Can't make tonight. S._

Then, added below as an afterthought: _Sorry_.

Four words and a single initial. That was all. He had not even bothered with an 'it', Remus thought distantly. How very frugal of him.

He crumpled the note in his hand and then brought the closed first to his mouth, as if that could keep inside all the things welling up within him. The sun flooded the little kitchen with warm, golden light, but Remus felt chills running down his spine.

Sirius would not be here tonight.

It might not have been so bad, if it had been any other night. Peter was too small to properly distract him, and neither of them had really seen much of him since graduation, but James could have kept him company. Kept him from harming both himself and others. It would not have been as good a time as if Sirius was there as well, but they would have made it work. Only…

Remus gnawed at the skin by his thumbnail and closed his eyes.

_I'm sorry, Moony, _James had said when he had called early that morning, using the fire in the old fireplace. _Just that we have this great chance at getting at the Death Eaters tonight and I can't opt out. I've got to be there._

I understand, Remus had said. Of course you do. The Order needs you there.

_I am truly sorry_, James had said again, and Remus knew he was sincere. He was also too loyal to abandon his allies on the night of an important Order strike, and Remus was too loyal, and not selfish enough, to ever ask it of him.

Don't be, Remus had said. We'll be fine. I'll be fine.

_You sure?_

Yes. I'll talk to you…

_After._

Yes. After. Best of luck, James. Say hi to everyone for me.

_Will do. Take care of yourself tonight, eh Moony?_

I'll do my best.

He had not been worried. Not then. It was too bad if James could not come, but it was to be expected. He had a leading role within the Order and if they had a chance, a real chance, of striking a blow against Voldemort and his followers, it was obvious that James had to be there. It was just the way things were.

But then, Remus had still been under the impression that Sirius would come. Sure, he and James would prefer to fight together, but up until now they had always made sure that at least one of them could come and stay with Remus on nights like these. And whenever they could not make it, they had been sure to let him know why. Now here he was with a ridiculously short note telling him simply that Sirius would not come, either. Just a short few hours before sunset. Remus could feel panic building up inside his chest and tried to keep it down, to breathe, to think.

_You knew this might happen_, he reminded himself. _You knew things could not stay the way they were at Hogwarts_.

It was more than he could have ever dreamt of, those years. All of it. To be able, no, to be _allowed_ to go to school at all. To have teachers and school staff help him rather than shun him. To have friends. Friends, who not only _stayed_ his friends after they found out about his affliction, but who became even closer friends. Friends who risked not only detentions but expulsion, their future careers, and even their lives. For him.

It was obvious that it could not stay the same once they left school. Even if it had not been for Voldemort and the Order of the Phoenix fighting to end his reign of terror, Remus had known deep within his heart that it would only have been a question of time before his friends found their own paths in life diverting from his. Peter would probably end up tending his mother's little shop of magical cleaning supplies and find himself married off to a determined woman, to whom he would devote himself. James would find himself at the Ministry, rising like a star, while starting a family with Lily, the one they already dreamed of and nourished fondly in hushed whispers. And Sirius… Sirius would travel the world and relish in all the adventures it had to offer.

Remus, with his monthly transformations and how incapacitated they left him, did not fit into any of those futures. He knew that. Had known all along.

He had just not expected that it would happen quite so soon.

A shiver ran down his back and his arms, and he failed to suppress the shudder. It was only a few hours until dark, and when the moon rose, he would be all alone for the first time in almost three years. He had better get started.

* * *

There was, of course, no real way of preparing for transforming into a werewolf. Whatever he did or did not do, night would fall, the full moon would rise, and he would suffer through the physical, flesh-bending, bone-breaking change that would turn him into a savage, bloodthirsty beast with a contagious bite. How could anyone ever prepare for that?

But doing nothing at all was not helpful either; Remus knew that it would only make him panic again. Especially tonight, knowing that he was on his own. No company, but more importantly, no one there to stop him if need be. There would be no one.

He remembered one night during summer, only a few months ago, when Sirius had wrestled him to the ground and held him down until he stopped struggling. This was not so unusual, and Remus had thought that once he stilled, Sirius would get off and they could go back to playing. However, Sirius had laid down half on top of him instead, keeping him grounded, and licking him and rubbing his head and nose against Remus' neck until Remus did not feel like running or hunting at all. He had relaxed, smelled the green smell of grass and felt the weight and warmth of Sirius's body on his, and looked up at the not-quite-darkness of the night and the scarce handful of faint stars blinking there, as the dew settled in their furs.

Not tonight, he reminded himself. Tonight there would be no lying in the garden and watching the stars. No playing, no hunting rabbits in the fields, no being tackled by Padfoot's solid weight or Prongs' sharp antlers if he was in risk of doing something too dangerous.

Swallowing hard, Remus made himself a strong cup of tea, and set about emptying out the root cellar.


	2. Chapter 2

It must have been a miserable night, Remus concluded as he came to the next morning. It was an assessment based more on all the blank spaces in his memory, than actually remembering much at all. It was as if the entire night had been blocked out, with only a few pinprick exceptions, blinding him with things he truly did not want to remember.

The hunger.

The anger.

The overwhelming loneliness.

Every bone in his body ached, and every muscle and sinew were sore and tender as he tentatively tried to get to his feet, or at least into a sitting position. The cellar was completely dark, so he could not see what damage he had done to himself, but he felt it all the more. A cracked rib, maybe two. Again. It hurt, but it had been a common enough occurrence that it did not jolt him much. Worse, he thought as he carefully felt his way over his naked body, was that he seemed to have almost mutilated himself. His wrist felt as if he had tried to chew it right off, and there was the iron taste of blood in his mouth, and tufts of fur all around him.

Everything hurt. His whole body. Moving. Breathing. Even the bloody heartbeats in his tender ribcage made him want to throw up and pass out, and there was nothing he could do about those. And he had to get on his feet. Get his wand, which was hopefully still on one of the beams, and out of this hole.

He reached out his right hand, the one with a not-mangled wrist, for purchase, anything to grab onto. Splintered wood told him that he had somehow wrecked the ladder during the night. With a moan that sounded too much like a whimper even to his own ears, Remus closed his eyes against the empty darkness.

* * *

Several hours passed before he managed to summon the strength to stand up, grope around for his wand and finally finding it in a corner, unlock the cellar trap door, repair the ladder and crawl out. Afterwards, he lay panting on the floor for several long minutes, trying to ignore the pain that burned through every last cell of his body. It was so much worse than he had remembered. Worse than he could have ever imagined.

He managed to manoeuvre himself onto the couch, and then promptly collapsed there. He could feel himself slipping in and out of consciousness, like waves against the shore, rushing in, pulling back. He had no idea what time it was, and no strength with which to make food or even take care of his injuries. He felt… unmade. Drawn and quartered, and then somehow, sown haphazardly back together again.

A series of sharp bangs brought him back from another wave of unconsciousness, as surely as if it had been his head that was being banged upon. He realised, however, that it must be the brass knocker making the noise, and that meant someone was standing outside his door. Well, they could stay there for all Remus cared. There was no way he would leave this couch, even if he could have.

There was another series of knocks, as well as someone shouting his name, although the voice was muffled by the walls. Remus groaned. Hopefully, whoever was out there would soon give up and leave. The silence that followed seemed to indicate this, and Remus had almost dozed off again when he heard the door open, and footsteps of someone entering the cottage. He had barely had time to realise that this was indeed what he heard, much less react, when the steps had reached the doorway leading in to the small living room.

"Remus" someone said, softly as a huff of wind. Then more steps, urgent ones, and then someone kneeling in front of him where he lay, blocking out most of the light sifting in through the unwashed window. Remus tried to focus his gaze, but it was impossible, the pain making his eyes tear up and make everything blurry. He did not need to see in order to know who it was, though. He would have recognised this man's scent anywhere.

"Sirius" he breathed, still struggling to see, but then there was a hand on his face, cool and gentle, and he closed his eyes. He wanted to turn to that hand, wanted to be cradled by it, but when he turned his head even only slightly, pain shot through him and made him whimper again, helplessly.

"What's happened, Remus?" Sirius said, and although his voice was low, Remus could hear anger and concern underneath the gentleness.

Nothing, he thought. Nothing had happened. It was just the way it always was, only, he could not quite remember. There was nothing to remember, nothing but the darkness and the cold cellar walls, and the futile struggles as he had tried and tried and tried to get out.

"Remus?" came Sirius voice again, carefully insistent. "Please tell me."

"You" Remus began, but his voice cracked almost at once. It did not sound like him, even when he tried to clear his throat. It was not what he should say. It was not fair to say it. But it was all the words he could speak. "You weren't here."

And then his eyes blurred, but this time with a whole other kind of tears.

"Oh, Remus" he heard Sirius say in a breath, like a breeze on his face, and then he faded out again.

* * *

The next time he woke up, he was in the bed. A narrow thing, it stood crammed into the tiny space only a house-elf would have called a bedroom. It was at the very back of the living room, shielded only by a thin screen of wall, and the bed occupied the entire space. Remus almost never slept there, although to be fair, it was more due to the fact that he rarely stayed in the cottage at all, than any fault on the part of the bed.

His headache had lessened somewhat, and he began to take note of the rest of his surroundings. He was still naked, but at least now he was mostly covered by a thin sheet. But he had not been before, on the couch, which meant Sirius had not only seen him naked but had also carried him here. Carried Remus' naked, scrawny body, no doubt covered in dirt, bruises and blood, to this bed.

The thought made him blush, then squirm, and then blush again.

That was not how he wanted Sirius to see him. Broken and helpless.

Something cold and wet pressed against his ankle, and he yelped. Sirius, in dog form, was lying by the foot of the bed and was now looking up at him, worry written clearly all over his canine features. He pressed his nose against Remus' leg once more, as if urging him on.

"Hello, Padfoot" Remus croaked, and was at once rewarded by the large dog standing up and waddling precariously all over the bed, approaching him. Remus had to shift out of the way so as not to be trampled, and then the large beast promptly collapsed all over him, narrowly avoiding the ribs which Remus suspected were fractured.

"Ouf" Remus said, swatting feebly at his friend to move away. "Why are you always trying to squash me?"

The dog moved perhaps an inch or so away, before he pushed his big, black head up to Remus' face and whined softly. Remus thought he had never seen such a sad dog ever before. It was as if his entire face was drooping with sadness, from the flat ears and the eyes like deep, dark wells to the corners of his mouth. And his whine. Low, insistent and utterly heart-breaking.

"You're the worst" he told the dog, though his voice lacked conviction. "The absolute worst."

Padfoot tilted his head slightly, and then whined again, a sound of pure misery, before he gave Remus a tentative lick on the cheek. It was just as wet and cold as the nose had been, and would have been absolutely endearing if it had been a real dog. Now it was confusing as hell, and more than Remus could deal with. He was too tired, and it was not as if he could have a real conversation with Sirius while he was transformed. And why was he? The night of the full moon had passed; it was not as though Remus was going to change into a werewolf _now_.

Absentmindedly he raised his hand to push the dog's head away from his face – just as every other dog Remus had ever met, Padfoot had quite a nasty breath – and belatedly realised that it was the hand with the mangled wrist. Only, his wrist was bandaged now. And it did not hurt quite as badly, as though someone had applied a healing balm to it.

"You did this?" he asked. His voice was faint, and he could feel himself losing consciousness again, but he tried to hold on. The dog did not so much at glance at his wrist, however, but kept his eyes firmly on Remus. He was still whining miserably, and even edging closer, reclaiming the inch he had surrendered only a minute ago. Remus gave up, and instead of pushing the dog away, succumbed to scratch him a little behind one ear. This earned him another wet lick, but at least the whining stopped. As he felt himself fading out, the last thing he knew was the weight and warmth of the dog on his chest, and that he was not alone.


	3. Chapter 3

He had not been unconscious this time, merely sleeping, and when he woke again, there was no dog in the bed. There was, however, muffled sounds from the cottage kitchen, and the golden quality of the light sifting through the living room windows told him that it must be late afternoon.

He had been out all day.

Shifting carefully in the bed, he began to sit up. There was still a furious headache, but he was not feeling nauseous, which was always something to be grateful for. Pulling away the sheet, he began to take stock of his injuries. His skin, usually pale except for the silvers and pinks of old scars, was covered with an assortment of bruises, ranging from small, already paling ones to large, angrily black and blues. There were cuts, mostly on his torso, where he had no doubt clawed and bit himself, and while he seemed to have been correct about the fractured ribs, nothing appeared to be actually broken. It was an ugly body to look at, but it would heal.

"You're awake" came Sirius voice suddenly, causing Remus to jump and pull the sheet back over himself, hiding the disaster that was his body. The sudden movement jolted just about everything in his skull that should most definitely not be jolted, and he winced.

"Sorry" Sirius said, but he did not leave. Instead he stepped in through the would-be-doorframe (if there had been space enough to actually fit a door) and sat down on the edge of the bed. There was a huge mug in his hand, the steam carrying a familiar, comforting fragrance.

"You made tea?" Remus asked, voice still faint and croaky, but it must have carried his incredulity just fine, because Sirius looked embarrassed.

"Yeah, I…" he began, then changed his mind. "It's for you."

"You made me tea?" This was new. "I didn't think you knew the first thing about cooking."

"I can make _tea_" Sirius said, sounding both exasperated and offended, which felt much more familiar. "Anyway, it's your blend, and I think it's quite strong. That's how you like it, right?"

Remus made a very slow, careful nod.

"Yeah" he said quietly, accepting the large mug with both hands when Sirius offered it to him. "Thank you."

Everything turned quiet then, in a way they had never turned quiet before. Sirius was not one to let a silence settle, even if Remus was, and if there had ever been silence between them, it had never felt like this. Heavy. Remus sipped at the tea, even though the cloud of steam told him it was clearly too hot to drink, and while it nearly scalded his tongue, he could taste it. Strong, just as Sirius had said.

"It's good" he said. "A bit too hot though. I'll drink it when it has cooled some."

"Oh, okay. Should I… put it somewhere?"

"Please."

Remus did not have a bedside table; there was no room for one. In fact, there was hardly even room for Sirius. Tall and broad-shouldered, he seemed even larger sitting on Remus' bed, taking up more than his usual share of space. Most of the light coming in through the living room window was blocked by his frame, leaving his face in shadow. Without another word he took the mug and carried it away, just the few steps necessary to reach a table, and then returned to the bed, but he did not sit down again.

Sirius had never been prone to fidgeting, but this was probably as close to it as he got, Remus thought. He looked nervous, or rather perhaps, as though he was holding something back. It made Remus want to squirm and hide.

"What are you doing here, Sirius?" he asked, since a new silence had seemed to fall over them. He had not meant it to sound accusatory, he was merely exhausted and in pain, but he thought he saw the words sting his friend.

"I've made you tea and, um, thought I'd clean up a bit" Sirius replied, not looking at Remus but rather everything else. There was none of his usual cleverness or knife-sharp sense of humour, so Remus knew he was being daft on purpose.

"And you've wrapped me up in bandages and put me in bed, too" Remus filled in softly, "but you're being deliberately literal. _Why_ are you here? And sit down, please, you're making me anxious. I promise I won't bite."

It was a poor joke, and Sirius, thankfully, did not laugh. He did, however, sit down on the bed again, which was a relief. Remus sank down a little in the bed and instantly, Sirius had bent forward and propped up pillows under his head and back, allowing him to recline. It was a blessing not to have to sit up any longer, but still also to be a little more at eye level with Sirius, who seemed to be at an uncharacteristic loss for words. He nearly jumped when Remus touched his leg in encouragement.

"I went by the Order" Sirius said then. "This morning. I met James there and he told me all about last night and how they… well, it doesn't matter. I realised he'd not been here, and I'd not been here, and…"

He had kept his hands clasped together, but now he opened them up, let them fall and rest upturned and empty on his legs, like a man who had lost everything and had nothing left to give. Remus studied him, but it was several seconds before Sirius raised his gaze and looked back, his gaze dark and full of a host of emotions Remus rarely saw in him.

"I had to come. I had to." Remus did not know what to say, and perhaps his silence spurred Sirius on, because he continued, in a voice that sounded almost hollow with dread: "I thought you were dead."

Remus swallowed.

"At first. When I came in. I've never seen you so… so…" Sirius faltered; whispered: "Never."

"Before fifth year" Remus began. "It was like this, before then."

But Sirius shook his head, looking down into his lap and his empty hands.

"I remember seeing you come back, and I remember when we came to visit you in the Hospital wing" he said. Then, looking up at Remus again, he added quietly. "It was never like this."

"Tell me."

Remus did not really want to know. He did not want to appear this way; like nothing more than a heap of broken parts, someone who should be pitied for his misfortune. Not to his friends. Not to Sirius. But Sirius needed to talk, that much was plain to see, and Remus was just lying here anyway, right?

But Sirius did not reply, not at once. Instead he reached out for Remus' face, almost like before on the couch, cupping the side of it ever so gently.

"I thought… maybe you had killed yourself" he whispered, raw pain in every word. It was so tangible that Remus was almost choked by it as well, and he shuddered. How close had he been?"

"Why?" he croaked.

"Well, you'd almost bit your hand off, for one" Sirius said, in a strange sort of flippant tone that made Remus think of defense mechanisms. "And I think you've torn off just about all the fur you could reach. It's like you've shed a full winter coat down there. And… you've not seen your face yet, have you?"

"No?"

"Well, you probably don't want to, either. Looks like you've banged your head against the wall. A hundred times or so."

"Oh." No wonder his head hurt, then. "I can't remember."

"Nothing at all?"

Remus began to shake his head, then thought better of it. Sirius's hand was still on his face, like a shield, and while he wanted to turn towards it, be shielded even further, he had to turn in the other direction instead. Towards Sirius, towards his dejected frame and apologetic, fear-struck voice.

"Just… the hunger. The anger." The usual things. The ones he had told them all about, years before. "And-"

"And what, Remus?" Sirius sounded nothing like himself at all. All softness and worry. And guilt. Remus draw a shuddering breath and was ashamed to find that his eyes were filling with tears again.

"The loneliness" he finished, raggedly, and before Sirius had a chance to say anything, it was as if the confession had opened up a floodgate inside of him. All the fear, all the crushing realisation that he was once again alone, left behind, _abandoned_, came cascading out of him in tears and cries.

"I was alone! You weren't here, no one was here and I was so alone, I was terrified Sirius, I couldn't- I couldn't think, I couldn't go anywhere, I had to lock myself up and it was horrible and it hurt and I just wanted you to be there, I needed you and you were not here…"

He was bawling his eyes out, tears mixing with snot as it all streamed down his face, and Sirius had withdrawn his hand – was he leaving? Was he leaving Remus now? His weight had left the bed and-

But he came back, and he did not sit on the edge, he crept down next to Remus, one arm sneaking under him, the other wrapping around him ever so gently. He made a small, shushing noise, and it sent Remus off into a fresh stream of tears.

"I was so alone" he hiccupped against the soft fabric of Sirius' shirt. "Everything was dark and I couldn't get out and there was no one there…"

There was more shushing, and Sirius awkwardly stroking his back, and eventually the exhaustion took its toll on him. His breath was still ragged but there were no more tears. Instead there was great lump of shame, located somewhere in his belly. None of this was Sirius' fault. And Remus was supposed to be a grown up now, with his N.E.W.T.s and being of age. Not a shivering, crying mess in his friend's arms, just because his friends had been too busy fighting the darkest wizard of all time to stay with him.

The thought brought on a new bout of crying, but they soon dried out. Sirius shirt was sopping wet, but he was still there, solid and undeniably present. He had still not said a word, though.

"I'm sorry" Remus whispered against the soaked shirt.

"What, why?" came Sirius' immediate reply, confused, but not angry. Thank Merlin, not angry.

"Soaking your shirt, for a start" Remus sniffed. "…breaking down like this. I'm not blaming you, it's, it's not your fault, I just wasn't prepared to-"

"What do you mean, it's not my fault?" Sirius demanded, cutting him off. "Of course it's my fault. I should have been here with you, but I wasn't. Of course I'm to blame."

Remus had leaned back at this, and what he saw in Sirius' face was not disgust or embarrassment or anything of the sort, but anger. Loads and loads of anger, but not aimed at Remus at all.

"If I'd been here, you wouldn't have hurt yourself" Sirius continued, and Remus saw now that chief among the emotions he had heard in Sirius' voice before, even among the feelings he had seen in Sirius' eyes, was guilt. "You wouldn't have had to feel alone."

While this was true, Remus did not want his friend to feel guilty, or berate himself.

"No" he protested. "No, Sirius, it's not your fault. You haven't made any promises, it's not like I've hired you or James of Peter to keep me company. It's not that I don't appreciate your being with me, but this is my problem, Sirius, and I have to deal with it, whether you're here or not."

Sirius blinked at him, as if stunned.

"You don't want me here?" he said, sitting up in the bed so suddenly that Remus found himself disoriented, and then absolutely cold inside, as Sirius turned his back on him.

"No, that's not what I said at all!" He felt panic rise again, and his headache cramped, making him wince before he could continue. He had to make Sirius understand. "Of course I wanted you to be here. It's always better when you are. I just… I just know that I can't count on it."

"Well, you should!" Sirius barked, still sitting with his back turned to Remus. "You should be able to count on it! We're your friends, _I'm_ your friend, and I should have been here."

Even in the dimming light, Remus could see his friend's shoulders tremble. With rage? Tension? Inexplicably, he wanted to reach out, touch him, make him turn back around. _Just don't leave. Don't leave._

"You're here now" he whispered. Several long moments of nothing but breaths followed. Sirius' shoulders were shaking and Remus could see that he was gripping the bedframe so tightly he might just break it. "You've patched me up and watched over me and you've even made me tea. In a way, that's more than I could have ever hoped for, Sirius."

He reached out his hand, the mangled one, bandaged and weak, and put it on Sirius' arm.

"You're here now" he whispered again. "That counts, too."

"Not enough" Sirius said, then rose and left.


	4. Chapter 4

He did not leave the cottage altogether. Remus might have just collapsed into another bout of helpless crying if he had. No, Sirius went and fetched the tea, which by then had reached an ideal temperature. As Remus wolfed it down, his throat as dry as parchment, he could hear Sirius rummage around in the kitchen and make a call through the fireplace. He must have kept his voice deliberately low, however, because Remus could not make out a single word being spoken.

On the other hand, he felt completely wrung out and was on the verge of falling asleep again when Sirius reappeared by the bed. He was holding three glass bottles, each containing a different coloured potion, and labelled with a neat hand Remus recognised only too well. He looked from the bottles to Sirius.

"You spoke to Madam Pomfrey?"

"Yeah…" Sirius looked slightly embarrassed. "I couldn't think of anyone else to ask."

No, who else to turn to? Sure, there was St. Mungo's, but he would have had to be admitted to receive care. And there was no turning to Remus' father, or to Sirius' parents, for help, and Remus knew that Sirius hesitated to ask James' parents for help, even though they had adopted him. Now, Remus felt a surge of gratefulness for the Hogwarts school matron, who, since they had graduated, had no obligation to help either of them, but had done it anyway.

"What are they for?"

"Um, this one's for headaches, and this one for broken bones. And this is some kind of cure-all."

"Just what I need" Remus said, managing a faint smile. "Thank you."

The potions were not too bad, all things considered. They were certainly not tastes to be savoured, but he had had much worse potions and would not complain. After he had emptied the last flask, he found Sirius studying him with an expression that reminded Remus of his sad dog face.

"When you said you can't count on us to be here", Sirius said, "what did you mean?"

Remus looked up at him, uncertain of how to reply. He wanted to explain, or rather, he wanted to be understood, but for all that he knew exactly what he had meant, he had no idea of how to put it into words.

"I never thought I'd have friends" he said at last. "Certainly not friends who stayed. But even when we became friends, you and James and Peter and I, I knew that you'd find other things, now that we're grown up, and they'd take precedence. Like Lily does for James. Like the Order does, for all of us."

"It's not like that."

"Not like what?"

"Why I wasn't- why I wasn't here" Sirius said. "It wasn't for something important. Nothing as important as y- our friendship."

Remus frowned slightly, trying to understand what it was Sirius tried to say.

"You weren't with James and the Order?"

"No."

"Well, where were you?"

"It's… it was stupid. I didn't think. I thought it'd be alright, I mean, just this once, and then, well, I fucked up, didn't I?"

"Sirius…" Remus said, unable to keep from sighing but smiling, too, "I'll be alright. Promise. How bad can it be if you can't tell me? What, did you hook up with a hag? Play poker with goblins?"

Finally, Sirius laughed. He still did not sound quite like himself, but at least it was a laugh. He rubbed his hand over his neck and looked embarrassed.

"No, I, um… I bought something."

This time it was Remus' turn to blink, uncomprehending.

"You bought something? And it couldn't wait until today?"

"Well, it was this ad I saw, and the fellow wanted to get rid of it right away, and apparently he was some kind of paranoid hermit because I couldn't Apparate to where he lived but had to trek ten miles through a forest before I even got there- are you laughing at me?"

"No" Remus said, although he had to try very hard to keep from giggling. "What on earth was it that made you go to such lengths? Literally!"

Sirius was definitely blushing now.

"A motorbike" he said, grumbling, glancing away.

"A motorbike?" Remus echoed, now unable to contain how amused – and confused! – he was. "Sirius, you buy motorbikes from stores. Not from paranoid hermits in Unplottable sheds in deep forests."

"Maybe if you want to buy a Muggle motorbike" Sirius replied, now a little more certain of himself, a tiny hint of his usual self-assuredness and dashing arrogance in his smile as he looked back at Remus. "This one can fly."

"…what?"

"It flies. Truly. I rode it back home yesterday and it works perfectly. I'd like to Charm it so that it can turn invisible, too, it'd make it much easier to use, but that's going to have to be a pet project."

"It sounds perfect for you" Remus smiled. "But it still doesn't explain all the secrecy. Or the urgency."

"Well… there might be a bit of paperwork missing."

"…Don't tell me you're the owner of an unregistered flying motorcycle."

Sirius, compliantly, said nothing, but his grin spoke volumes. Remus groaned and pushed his head back into the pillow.

"Merlin" he groaned, "you'll be caught and fined for misuse of Muggle Artefacts in a week."

"I won't!"

"Okay, maybe not" Remus acquiesced, as the Ministry probably had other things on its hands. "But that only makes it even more perfect for you, I suppose. Unregistered, both of you. Figure out a way to fly it as a dog and you can be breaking twice as many laws at once."

"Hey!" Sirius called, but it was clear he was amused, rather than offended. "That was for you, you know."

"I know" Remus grumbled. "Thank you."

"Oh stop. You've thanked us about a thousand times already."

He probably had. He still meant it, though.

"What did James say about it?" he asked instead. "About the bike."

"I haven't told him yet."

"Why not?" Remus frowned slightly. "Didn't you buy it yesterday? And you saw James this morning?"

"Yeah, but I didn't fly it in bright daylight, did I? And I had more important things on my mind this morning."

_Me_, Remus thought. _He means me._

"Anyway…" Sirius continued, looking down at his hands. He did not look nervous now, however, only as though he was contemplating some complex problem. "Sure, James is my best friend, he's like a brother to me, and while I do kind of want to show off the bike to him, I wanted to tell you about it first."

"Why?" he asked, wishing his voice did not sound so small just then.

"Because… I wanted you to come riding it with me."

"Why?"

"Because while James is my best friend… you're my _person_."

Sirius spoke those last three words very softly, as though unveiling a secret. Remus recognised this, and just hearing them rendered him thoroughly unable to reply for the emotion it brought out in him, but still he was not sure what Sirius actually meant. And Sirius was looking at him so expectantly, and with so much…apprehension. As if afraid that what he had revealed, Remus might use against him.

"I'm your person?" he echoed faintly.

"Yes, you're…" Sirius looked down on his lap, as if there might be a more eloquent answer written for him there. "You're the one person I always want to spend more time with. You're the person I want to make laugh more than anyone else. All those stupid things James and I did at school, so many of them were only to impress _you_. I don't want to show you that bike, I want to _ride_ it with you. And I don't want you to ever have to feel alone again."

Remus' mouth was as dry as old parchment again. He opened his mouth to speak but there were no words coming out of them. Sirius was pouring his heart out, his soul wide open, and Remus still was not sure what it all meant. What it could possibly mean.

"And I've been wanting to tell you since we graduated but there was never a good time, and I don't even know if- if, you know, if you'd even be interested in being more than friends. But I want to be your person, too."

Sirius looked at him with equal parts hope, despair and trepidation, and Remus knew he had to say something now, give him some sort of reply. And before he knew it himself, he had said it:

"You already are."

It was not exactly the same. It was not about wanting to make Sirius laugh or impress him; James did those things. But he did want to make Sirius smile; those soft, vulnerable smiles that he never showed in front of anyone else. Wanted to find small passages in books and surprise Sirius with quotes he would like, even though he had never heard them before and thought books were boring. Wanted to treat him to hot cocoa with whipped cream on cold winter mornings, because he knew Sirius loved it but had been told all his life that it was too sweet and too childish for a son of the Black family, and would relish that mug for an hour if he could.

But could Sirius actually want _him_? _Want_ him, in the carnal sense of the phrase? He had not said so explicitly, had he? Just… more than friends? But that could just as easily just refer to being someone's person, couldn't it?

He looked so happy, though. Beaming from within, not smiling widely but looking so _alight_.

"I am?" he asked, and Remus could not help but smile, albeit weakly.

"I think you've been my person for years, Sirius" he said. "I just didn't know that there was such a word."

He had always relied a little more on Sirius than the others. Always watched him a little closer than the others. Always been a little angrier with him for messing things up. A little happier by his presence, sadder by his absence.

And yesterday, had he not been more crushed by Sirius' cancellation, than James'? Even if he had received Sirius' note first, would it not still have been more horrible to not have him, than to not have James, for company?

Remus knew the answer resounding within him. Yet still…

"But-" he began, and instantly, Sirius' attention was focused entirely on him again, alert for any of all the bad things that must inevitably follow a 'but'. "But Sirius… you said, more than friends, as in-"

"I want to sleep with you. As in have sex with you. Obviously. Though, we can just sleep together, you know, if you, if you don't want-" The confidence of the first few words had turned into a little bit of a rambling, but reached a sort of stop at this point. Then, halting: "Do you… not want to?"

"No! I mean, yes, yes, I do, I think, but-" This time it was Remus' turn to falter, to let his gaze fall. He was blushing furiously, he felt his cheeks burn, and now he had to struggle to find words. When he found them, they came out as no more than whisper.

"I just can't see how… how you can want- this." He gestured vaguely over his broken body, which, although still covered by that thin sheet, Sirius had already seen too much of today. "How you can want _me_. Being like this."

He did not dare look up at Sirius, but he felt him shift slightly at the edge of the bed.

"If it's your body your referring to" Sirius said slowly, "then you should know already that I don't care about your scars. And as for the rest of it, it's _your_ body. I like it by the virtue of it being yours. Every scrawny little inch of it."

Remus grimaced, but had to stop when Sirius reached for his hand, the one with the bandaged wrist.

"And you know that I'm not going to run away just because you're a werewolf" he continued, voice lower now, and as gentle as his hold on Remus' hand. "It's part of who you are, but there's more to you than that and I like all of you. In fact, I think the only thing I don't like is when you try to bite your own hand off."

Sirius raised Remus' hand to his mouth, and pressed the smallest kiss to the knuckles. It made Remus shiver all over. Sirius' voice, when he spoke again, was barely a whisper.

"But I think that was my fault, and if you'll let me, I'll never leave you on a full moon again, and then you won't ever be that lonely again."

"I'll let you" Remus whispered back.

It was the first thing he could think of to say. What with last night's transformation, and all the pain and both physical and mental exhaustion it had brought on, he felt overwhelmed by Sirius' declaration, and the depth and sincerity of his feelings towards Remus. He wanted to be just as honest, just as eloquent, wanted to know exactly how he felt and what he wanted, but all he managed was those words. _I'll let you._

By some miracle, Sirius did not seem to find his reply lacking. He smiled, and with gentle movements put Remus' hand back down on the sheet. Sirius, who was never gentle with anyone, but who had always been gentle with Remus. Sirius, who loved grappling and wrestling and who had on more than one occasion, for no reason at all, tackled James and Peter to the ground just for the heck of it – had only ever done that to Remus when he had been in wolf form, and had the physique to handle it.

Sirius. Padfoot. There was something there, a thread of thought, but Remus could not quite grasp it. It slipped through his mind and seemed to hover in front of him, just out of reach. He was caught by Sirius' eyes instead, but it was difficult to focus on him. The shadows seemed to have grown, the room was almost completely dark.

"You should get some more sleep" Sirius said, and his voice was soft and almost muffled. "You look like you need it."

He did. By Merlin, he needed to sleep. But they still had more to talk about, and what if Sirius had left by the time Remus woke up again? _Don't leave_, he wanted to say. Plead. Beg.

"Can you stay?" he asked instead.

"Yeah" Sirius replied. "Yeah, I'll stay. I'll be here."

"Oh" Remus breathed. That was good. Sirius would stay. Sirius would… Sirius… Sirius…


	5. Chapter 5

It was as dark as in the root cellar when Remus woke up next, but strangely enough, he did not feel any panic. In fact, what he felt was… heavy. Something heavy. On top of him. With a very familiar, comforting scent.

"Sirius" he hissed, a little short of breath. "Sirius, get off, you're squashing me. Again."

There was a grunt, and then the large body which had been draped over him shifted slightly, and rolled over on its side, before snuggling close again and even throwing one arm over him, as if to keep him in place. It was a minimal improvement, but at least he could breathe.

"…thought you liked it" Sirius mumbled against his shoulder, causing a small puff of warm breath to hit Remus' skin.

"Wha- what makes you think that?" he asked, feeling oddly transparent.

"Calms you" came another mumble in reply. "You always relax when I'm lying on you."

Sirius yawned, widely enough for Remus to _feel_ it, and then burrowed against Remus' shoulder again as if the most natural thing in the world. As if they had slept together like this a thousand times.

"'m sorry. Was I wrong?"

"Oh" Remus was immediately brought back from the novel sensation of having Sirius' sleeping next to him, to the topic of Sirius _on top of him._ Weighing him down, grounding him, making his presence so obvious that Remus never had to fear being alone. "No. No, Sirius. You're not wrong."

"Good. 's good."

He sounded a little bit more awake now, and his fingers were stroking Remus' stomach through the sheet, lazy circles that made Remus' skin tingle.

"This morning" Remus said slowly, "why did you stay with me as Padfoot?"

"I'm more alert as a dog." Sirius yawned. "I knew I'd notice when you woke up."

"Oh" Remus said again, thinking back. "And then you laid down on me, so I'd relax."

Sirius hummed, and Remus once again felt that thread of a thought dangling in front of him, closer now than before. If he could only…

"You were whining" he reflected. "I've never heard you sound so miserable before."

"I _was_ miserable" Sirius said quietly. "I think I'd still be whining, if I were to transform now."

"Why? You're not miserable now, are you?"

Sirius' fingers stilled.

"No" he said quietly. "But I still feel guilty, and you're not well."

"I'm healing, though. Thanks to you."

"I guess, but… dogs don't have that range of emotions. When I'm Padfoot, things are much less complex. I can be happy or angry, or excited."

"Or afraid?"

"…yes. And there are not so many barriers. What I feel, I act on. I wanted to protect you, so I curled up next to you."

Sirius fell silent, but something about how silent he was made Remus think that there was still more he wanted to say.

"All summer" Sirius finally said, "I couldn't find a time to tell you."

And there it was. The thread.

"But you showed me" Remus said, revelation dawning on him as he spoke. "You showed me how you felt, as Padfoot. You stayed close to me, you rubbed your head against me, you- you _licked_ me. All the time. You've never done that before."

"Yeah…" Sirius said, and sounded distinctly embarrassed. "I didn't really mean to, though. That acting on whatever I feel, there's no off switch. And my feelings for you… There was no way I could've not acted on them."

And dogs felt simple, basic emotions. Anger, fear, happiness.

Love.

"I'm your person" Remus whispered, and those three words felt like three other words.

Sirius made an odd little sound, almost like a grunt, or as if he was in pain. Then: "You are, Remus."

A warmth blossomed suddenly within him, like a candle flame, small but steady. He shoved a little at Sirius, who seemed surprised at first but then leaned off, making it possible for Remus to slide down a little in the bed and turn on his side as well, so that he could face Sirius – even though he saw nothing but shapes in the utter darkness. He raised his hand and carefully touched Sirius' face, and it felt just the way Remus thought it must, before he let it rest over Sirius' cheek, mirroring Sirius' caresses earlier that same day.

"You're my person, too" he whispered, and then leaned in to place a kiss on Sirius' lips.

When Sirius whimpered this time, Remus knew it was not out of misery.

* * *

**Epilogue**

It was the roar of a tremendous engine that brought Remus out of the cottage the next night.

Sirius had stayed with him all through the night, and most of the day as well, fluttering between the bed, the living room and kitchen and back again and behaving for all intents and purposes like nothing so much as a mother hen. He had made Remus tea and sandwiches, cleaned up about the living room – which looked truly awful, Remus noticed guiltily, with pools of dried blood and tufts of fur just about everywhere – then made a valiant attempt at making lunch, which had him scouring the kitchen, too. Only twice did he sit down at the edge of the bed, looking uncharacteristically shy but also positively radiating. The second time, after the scouring had taken place, Remus had felt well enough to sit up and give Sirius their second ever kiss. Sirius had blushed, and so Remus had blushed as well, and Sirius had initiated another kiss. It made Remus melt.

Then Sirius had wanted him to take a bath, which Remus refused. Then, realising that he was still not only black and blue from bruising, but also still covered with blood and dirt, he relented. Sirius had drawn the bath for him, and left him blessedly alone to soak for almost a full hour. When he had stepped out of the bathroom, his bones grating a little less at each other and the muscles a little less taut, he found that Sirius had laid out his favourite sweatpants and jumper for him, and large, woollen socks. Remus had almost cried.

After that, he had been fully content to lie down on the clean-spelled couch, wrapped in Sirius' embrace, and doze while Sirius told him more about his adventures procuring the bike. Evidently, the paranoid hermit had had a lot of additional security systems that he had conveniently forgot to tell Sirius about.

"So" Remus had said, half in sleep, "when do I get to see the miraculous bike that's worth all this effort and danger?"

Now, here it was. Brought to his very doorstep, minutes before midnight, a brilliantly polished black motorcycle that was so large it could have easily carried two more people. Despite having been raised by a wizard father, and knowing magic all his life, Remus was also too much his mother's son not to wonder how on earth such a large vehicle could ever be made to fly.

Sirius killed the engine with the press of a button, and grinned widely over at Remus.

"Well, here she is" he proclaimed, like a parent showing off their firstborn child. "What do you think?"

"You look positively delinquent" Remus smiled at him.

"I know, right?" Sirius looked beyond pleased. "I could probably infiltrate a Muggle biker gang or something. Rob a bank!"

"Please don't. It's not exactly an inconspicuous bike. And you have money already."

"I know, I know, just pulling your leg" Sirius said. Remus could not make out if he was rolling his eyes, but it sounded like he just might. On the other hand, he did not sound annoyed, merely amused, and now he was climbing off the bike and approaching Remus who still stood by the cottage door – on what he hoped was a safe distance away, in case the motorcycle would suddenly explode from a faulty charm gone abruptly haywire.

"Will you come and ride it with me?" Sirius asked, employing his very best impression of a puppy. "Please, Moony, pretty, pretty please, fly it with me?"

Remus laughed. Sirius was obviously using everything he had to make Remus come along – puppy eyes, calling him Moony and begging him in that sweet voice that made it impossible to refuse him anything – and Remus knew it. Saw it plain as day, and knew that he really should not get up on an illegal motorcycle and fly it, again, _illegally_ – but it worked.

He was still sore all over, and although his headache had lessened it was still very present and persistent. And he could only imagine what flying, in the middle of the night, in October, would do to his already stiff and creaking joints. But then, this was Sirius, and Sirius' brand-new bike, and all of his enthusiasm which Remus loved and admired and envied. And there were those things Sirius had said.

_I wanted you to come riding it with me. Because while James is my best friend… you're my _person_._

"Of course I'll come flying with you" he said, chuckling as Sirius made a little jump for joy at his victory. "I just need to dress a little more warmly."

Less than ten minutes later, he climbed up behind Sirius on the bike and wrapped his arms around Sirius' waist. Resting his chin against Sirius' shoulder, he said:

"If I fall off, I'll never forgive you."

Sirius laughed; Remus could feel it as well as hear it, and it made him smile.

"Don't worry, Moony" Sirius said, his voice warm and sincere. "I'll take care of you."

There was no chance for Remus to answer, as the engine roared into life, but he squeezed his arms a little tighter around Sirius' waist. Soon, they rose up towards the sky, and with no headlight on they must have been almost invisible to anyone below. Higher and higher they rose, up against the black sky and the million upon million stars that covered it. Looming larger than all others, the moon hung large and white, a single day's worth of waning marring its round shape.

"Isn't it great?" Sirius shouted over the engine. "Isn't it the most amazing flight ever?"

It was. Nothing could have made it better.

* * *

**A/N:**

Hello everyone, thank you so much for reading and for sticking with Remus to the end (at least, the end of this particular fic)! I hope you've enjoyed this story, and if you'd like to read more about Remus and Sirius, don't hesitate to write and tell me. I'm currently working on a follow-up/companion fic to this one and would love some cheering on from all of you. All the best!


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